


Fifty Shades of Red

by MikeRotch



Category: 2016 Presidential Election - Fandom, Crubio - Fandom, Political RPF - US 21st c., Republicans - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Brief straight smut, Closeted Gay Smols, Comfort, Crubio, Cruz/Rubio, Cruzio, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Gay Smut, M/M, Marco Rubio - Freeform, Poetry, Republican Presidential Candidates, Romance, Ted Cruz - Freeform, Ted Cruz/Marco Rubio - Freeform, We're so so so sorry, im so sorry mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeRotch/pseuds/MikeRotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio have an elicit affair during the course of the 2016 presidential election.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First

**Author's Note:**

> We feel the need to point out that this fanfiction was born on February 13th, 2016. One of us had been shipping Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio for nearly two months--coining the ship name Crubio before anyone advocated the combining of their campaigns--when the other one of us was dared to write smut between the two candidates. The product, finished at 3am on Valentine’s Day, became chapter 3 of this fanfiction. About a week later, we began brainstorming the plot of Fifty Shades of Red. Neither of us can face our reflections in the mirror anymore, but we hope you enjoy this collaborative effort that our friends call “truly disgusting.” 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a WORK OF FICTION. We know basically nothing about the actual Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Jeanette Rubio, Domonick Rubio, Daniella Rubio, Amanda Rubio, Anthony Rubio, Heidi Cruz, Caroline Cruz, Catherine Cruz, and every other person in this fanfiction. Please don’t sue us.

Another day that felt like a year. Marco rubbed his bleary eyes, exhausted after the fiasco of the first Republican Debate. Only two people were left in the hotel bar, which was sectioned off just for the candidates and their personal guests. Rubio knew that Senator Cruz was sitting in the back. The last time he had glanced at the older man, he had been staring into his phone.  
  
It was already almost three in the morning--or maybe it was only two. Rubio’s vision was starting to blur from fatigue, so he couldn’t be sure he was reading his watch correctly. He stared into the scotch in the glass before him, distantly wondering if it had all the answers. The bartender started tapping his fingers against the countertop. Marco knew he should head back up to his room; he had to wake up in just a few hours for another endless day of campaigning.  
  
But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t face Jeanette back in their hotel room. She was probably waiting up for him to finish chatting with the remaining reporters, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk to her.  
  
Beautiful, kind, lovely Jean. She was so caring, so good with children, so understanding about his work and his campaign.  
  
He kept gazing into the golden pool in his hand.  
  
“I’ll be in the back if you two need me.”  
  
He grunted in response to the bartender, who promptly disappeared through the Employees Only door.  
  
Maybe it was because he was almost alone, or maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe it was because he was too exhausted to lie to himself at that hour. I don’t love her, he thought, somehow expecting the scotch to understand him. He figured the alcohol would keep his secret, and then he downed his glass.  
  
Rubio stared into the empty container. Tears threatened to leave his eyes. A single drop fell into the glass before the presidential candidate composed himself again.  
  
It wasn’t only Jeanette. He had never loved a woman--romantically, at least. But he couldn’t do anything about his marriage. Gay Republicans didn’t get elected. He thought about Leviticus 20:13, he thought about his parents, he thought about his kids.  
  
He thought about Ted Cruz, his fellow Cuban American. The passion in the man’s eyes, the slight wave to his hair, his skinny little nose and awkward small smile...everything that made Marco crazy. The older man might have been in the same room as him, but he was impossibly far from the man. He wanted to be in the Texan’s arms, just like in his dreams. No. No, we’re not doing this.  
  
What WAS he doing? Would being president make him happy? He hoped so. It was the only thing keeping him moving, the dream he had grown since he was a child was maybe within his grasp--to be the most powerful man in the nation. He just had to get through the distractions, like he always did. His siblings called him boring as a child, too busy with books and school to play like a normal kid. But he thought it would all pay off one day.  
  
And there he was, a respectable Senator and presidential candidate, yet he still felt as empty as ever.  
  
He couldn’t stop the tears this time. Marco didn’t know the last time he had cried--it must have been years ago. His wife complained about his lack of emotions. “Am I married to a robot?” she had asked him once. He hadn’t known what to say.  
  
His soft crying escalated into sobbing. _I don’t know what I’m doing, what am I doing, who even am I-- ___  
  
“Marco?”  
  
Rubio started at the sound of his name, hastily sitting up straighter and trying to wipe away the evidence of his weeping. Ted Cruz was standing over him, eyeing him with uncharacteristic concern. He was used to seeing the man insulting and offending, but at that moment, he looked so...kind. Like he genuinely cared about the younger Senator.  
  
“Can I help you?” Marco asked, turning away from the man, ashamed. If only he knew what he had just been thinking about him--Cruz might have slapped him with sheer disgust.  
  
“You seem to be the one who needs help,” Ted said, sitting down on the stool next to his. There was nothing cruel or condescending in his tone. Rubio’s hands started to shake, so he promptly sat on them. He felt like he had a fantasy like this once.  
  
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said, avoiding the other man’s eyes like they contained ultraviolet rays. I become aroused by thoughts of him, I can’t be around him…  
  
“Don’t believe everything the media says,” Cruz said, taking a sip of his beer but still watching Rubio closely. “I actually do care about people, you know. We’re competitors, but you can talk to me, if you want.”  
  
Then the older man reached across the bar, feeling around under the counter until he found another beer. It sounded like he knocked a few bottles over in the process, but Cruz didn’t seem to care.  
  
Marco watched as he leaned over, and his untucked shirt rose up just enough to give him a glimpse of the more experienced Senator’s pale side. Even though it was just his side, it felt so personal...Rubio could imagine his hands greedily groping at that skin as he worked the rest of Ted’s shirt off.  
  
And before he could try to control himself, he felt his dick start to harden. _What the fuck is wrong with you?! That’s a man! That’s your rival! And you’re married! ___  
  
Cruz sat himself back down, holding two Coronas in one hand. “Want one?” he asked.  
  
“I have to go--” Marco said, stumbling to his feet in his drunken and sleep deprived stupor. He tripped over a leg of his stool and started to plummet forwards, but Cruz reached over and gripped his bicep with surprising force. The man was so strong, he could just push Rubio around. And the thought of that, unfortunately, just aroused the younger man even more.  
  
Shit. The two stayed frozen like that for a moment, and Marco was acutely aware that his dress pants weren’t concealing his raging erection.  
  
But Cruz didn’t say anything about it. He just lightly pushed Rubio back onto his seat before handing him a beer. Marco wondered for an instant if maybe the older man had managed not to notice his boner. His hope was shattered as soon as he glanced at Ted. He could see the difference in the man’s eyes. There was no disgust, no fear. Just--mischief?  
  
“What’s the rush?” asked Ted, sliding his hand down Marco’s arm and over his hip to rest his palm on the younger Senator’s thigh. Rubio squirmed a little but tried not to show it.  
  
Marco tried to fix his eyes straight ahead, wondering if he would melt under the gaze of the older man. He wondered, desperately, what Cruz was thinking about him. Keeping a hand on someone’s thigh--that was pretty suggestive, right? What if he was flirting with him? What did that mean? What could Rubio even do about it?  
  
One final time, the younger man tried to rise from his stool, but Ted clamped down his fingers with surprising strength. Marco almost cried out at the sudden pain on his leg.  
  
“If you don’t want to leave, you don’t have to,” Cruz whispered, implying so much with those simple words. He started to rub his thumb in small circles, gently caressing the inside of Rubio’s thigh. Marco’s hips involuntarily bucked a little. The younger man bit his lip. Even though his mind wasn’t working, his dick was, growing even harder just at the older man’s soft, chaste touch.  
  
“I see it in your eyes, you know,” continued Ted, leaning closer to whisper in Rubio’s ear. “Ever since I first saw you, I could tell you wanted me. And you know what?”  
  
His hand suddenly flew off the Floridian Senator’s thigh and rested right over his crotch. Marco whimpered, suppressing the sound as best as he could. He was already painfully hard, and almost nothing had happened yet. He noticed his hands were gripping onto the edges of his stool as he tried to control himself.  
  
“I want you too,” Ted whispered, at that was enough to make Rubio grunt in the back of his throat and thrust his hips forward in anticipation. “Greedy, aren’t you?”  
  
Marco desperately looked at the Texan, his eyes begging for more. Sweat was already starting to bead on the younger man’s face. Yet he knew it was so wrong in infinite ways, and in that glance he also pleaded for mercy. Rubio needed Cruz to stop--stop being so perfect, so kind, so sexy.  
  
Ted knew what Marco wanted before Marco knew what he wanted. The older man removed his hand from Rubio’s junk and set it on his shoulder. The Floridian pouted for a second but composed himself an instant later. He shouldn’t have Cruz. He couldn’t have Cruz. He wouldn’t have Cruz.  
  
But that wasn’t what Ted was thinking. The Texan leaned right next to his ear and said, “We’re taking this to my hotel room.”  
  
Rubio wanted to resist. He wanted to reject the older Senator, citing his marriage and children and presidential campaign and, of course, his rigid heterosexuality. But he knew he wasn’t strong enough to deny that beautiful Texan total rights over his body.  
  
Marco followed Ted out of the bar, trying to pretend like he wasn’t about to burst from excitement and arousal. They rode the elevator up to the seventh floor in total silence. Both men were conscious of the security camera judging them. Cruz’s room was painfully far down the hallway, so the Senators were forced to tiptoe in fear for thirty seconds.  
  
Ted stopped short in front of his door, glancing both ways to ensure no one was approaching. Marco tried to act casual. Trying not to stare at the miraculous way his hips moved, Rubio stood a little behind his soon-to-be lover.  
  
“My wife is in there, but she should be sleeping,” Cruz whispered. “I’ll go in first, go into the bathroom, turn on the water, and then I’ll come right back for you.”  
  
The Texan unlocked his hotel room and snuck inside, leaving the door half an inch open. The following moments were some of the longest in Rubio’s life. He wondered if the older man was about to abandon him or humiliate him or wrong him somehow. But surely enough, he heard the sound of the shower running, and then Cruz reappeared at the door and beckoned him inside.  
  
Marco felt like a teenager, sneaking into the suite and beelining for the bathroom. His heart pounded as his dick throbbed.  
  
And then it was happening, both men living their fantasies about each other. Cruz shoved Rubio against the door of the bathroom as soon he closed it. The older man’s hands attacked, trying to claim every inch of Marco’s skin. He didn’t bother to be gentle, yanking at tufts of his hair and digging his fingers into his lover’s flesh.  
  
The Floridian was elated by the dominance. He was tempted to close his eyes and try to memorize the feeling of being groped so vigorously, but he wanted to gaze at Ted’s face, so he made the sacrifice. Cruz smashed their lips together. He filled the kiss with lust and passion as he filled Rubio’s mouth with his tongue.  
  
“Oh, yes,” Marco groaned as Ted’s hands found his way under his shirt to start pulling at his chest hair. He submitted himself completely to the man, throwing his arms around him and feeling the way Cruz’s shoulder blades moved as they made out.  
  
“Mm,” the Texan hummed against the younger man’s lips while his hands worked off his lover’s shirt. Rubio felt the excitement in his stomach boil as he felt the nimble fingers working off his buttons. God, it was so much better than anything he’d ever experienced with a woman. The thought of his wife made him feel a flash of guilt, but then Cruz put his hands in his waistband and he was thrust back into the moment. Rubio’s hips thrashed as Ted cupped his cock with his wonderful warm hands.  
  
“Guess we should get you out of these pants, huh?” his lover murmured. He moved their faces enough so they could lock eyes, and Cruz licked his lips.  
  
They stripped with frenzied passion--not with love but with desperation. The men didn’t talk about the consequences of their actions, or how they’d never be able to do anything like this again. In that moment, Marco and Ted just needed to fuck.  
  
Rubio forgot how to breathe as he witnessed the naked Ted Cruz for the first time. His body was somehow more perfect than he had imagined. He was a little flabby, sure, but that just meant there was more of him for Marco to explore. The Texan could have been in an art museum, he figured. Rubio could have spent hours just examining the masterpiece.  
  
The room was growing increasingly steamier as the showerhead blasted hot water. For the debate, the RNC had opted for the one of the swankiest hotels available. The bathroom was outfitted with a tub and a glass shower. Cruz practically dragged the younger man into the stall. Neither was going to complain about the cramped space that made their sex even more intimate.  
  
“Baby, ah, baby, you’re mine,” Ted murmured as he sat down on the bench in the glass shower, gripping his naked lover tightly to his lap. The steam filling the room and hot water pouring onto their bodies made everything even better.  
  
“Touch me, touch me,” Rubio begged. His cock yearned for Cruz’s hands again.  
  
“I call the shots here,” Ted growled, abruptly enveloping the younger man’s dick with both of his hands and squeezing (even though Marco certainly didn’t mind his punishment.) The Floridian released his loudest yelp yet, a cry of pleasure audible over the stream of water. Cruz worried about his wife waking up in the adjoining room. He pushed his lover away and stumbled out of the shower. Fumbling around on the floor, he found his own discarded underwear. Balling it up and stuffing it into Rubio’s mouth for silence, he resumed their positions and started to work on his lover’s cock.  
  
Marco’s hips were bucking moments later. While the younger man bit into the gag to conceal his uncontrollable moans and whimpers, Ted was massaging every part of his lover’s manhood. He memorized every vein, every square inch of skin, every hair (although Rubio was mostly shaved, like himself.)  
  
And then Cruz picked up the pace, working his hand more vigorously up and down Marco’s dick. Internally, Rubio was screaming. He was shocked by the pleasure, and outraged that he had spent forty-four years without so much as a handjob from a man. His chin bobbed up and down stupidly. After another moment his eyes rolled back up into his head, and nothing existed but Ted Cruz and the pleasure.  
  
After a few more minutes of this, his arousal just increased and increased more than he thought possible.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he tried to say, but he kept the underwear in his mouth. He worried about outright screaming if he didn’t keep the gag there. Even though his words must have been unintelligible, Ted seemed to understand. Cruz increased his fervor jacking the younger man off, planting sloppy kisses all over this back and shoulder and neck like he could claim Rubio as his own.  
  
But just as Marco knew he could take no more, Ted shoved him off his lap and forced the Floridian onto his knees in front of him. Cruz had done enough of the giving. Rubio spat out the underwear as Ted wrapped his legs around the younger man’s shoulders. Marco spent a moment enjoying the sight of the Texan’s larger-than-average member, before giving him a gentle lick across his slit.  
  
“Oh,” Ted huffed, throwing his head back. The older man gripped his lover’s hair and forced the Floridian’s mouth to take his cock. Rubio had never held a dick in his mouth, but he decided he liked the sensation. It was such a responsibility, such a sign of trust; he could just bite him if he wanted, but he never would (unless Cruz wanted him to, of course.) He resolved himself to learn proper blowjob techniques immediately.  
  
Starting simple, Marco moved his tongue over everything he could find. He relaxed his throat and tried to take the cock deeper. Cruz was moaning, and the sight of his lover thrashing--because of him--was almost enough to make the younger man come, but he forced himself to stay focused on the pleasure of the older man. Ted was falling to pieces within minutes as Rubio explored. The intensity increased, with Cruz clutching his lover’s head and trying to force him deeper on his dick. Marco did his best to comply. He felt his reflex trying to make him gag as Ted neared the back of his mouth. But Rubio ignored the impulse best he could and took the cock deeper.  
  
“Ah...ahhh…” Cruz whimpered, his voice rising an octave but still staying quiet. “Deeper, baby, deeper…”  
  
Marco fought his head backwards a few inches, straining against his lover’s grip on his hair, and then abruptly moved his mouth completely around Ted’s cock, taking his manhood straight to the back of his throat. His law professors had always observed that the Floridian was a fast learner, and oral sex was no exception to his skill.  
  
Cruz released a strangled “Marco!” as he came. The feeling of the older man spasming in his mouth, forcing his semen down his throat, was enough to send Rubio over the edge. He had never experienced such a high in an orgasm before; this meant something different to him. After they had both ridden out their highs, Ted gently pushed the younger man’s mouth off of his cock and guided his back flat onto the bathroom floor. Cruz lowered his body on top of Marco’s. Their intimacy was chaste this time, both men still panting and sweating from the steam from the shower and their climaxes. Ted planted a kiss on Rubio’s lips--closed mouth and innocent. They were silent, but not because they had nothing to talk about. There was simply no need for speaking. The two Cuban Americans were just relishing the presence of the other.  
  
But Marco knew that it had to end. He pulled the older man into a deeper kiss, entangling his fingers in his lover’s hair. Cruz moved off of him with reluctance. Rubio immediately missed the comfort of the Texan’s weight on top of his. Ted sat with his back against the tub and watched Marco dress, his cute little butt, his toned legs, and his gorgeously hairy armpits disappearing from the older man’s sight.  
  
Rubio rested his hand on the doorknob but turned back. His naked lover and his pleased grin were almost enough to persuade him to stay for a second round. But he figured he had already done enough damage to himself, to Cruz, to his marriage, to his relationship with God...The consequences were too immense to consider, especially while he was still basking in the pleasure of their fucking. He summoned his last reserves of self control and left without another word.


	2. The Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's mind starts to wander about Ted's relationship with his wife.

Marco blinked away the sleep from his eyes, adjusting to the light streaming from his open laptop. The worst part about the campaign trail was the lack of rest. He had known people in law school who could function on two hours of sleep a night, but Rubio was not one of those people. He needed at least five hours, minimum. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury anymore. 

He glanced over at Jeanette while waiting for his email to load. She was still curled up in their blankets, her dirty blond hair splayed around her gorgeous sleeping face. He felt the guilt punch him right in the gut. It had been a week since his… _mistake_ with Ted Cruz, but he still woke up every morning feeling just as awful. He had betrayed kind, beautiful, loving Jeanette, and for a man. 

The worst part was that he didn’t regret it. In fact, when was honest with himself, he knew he wished that Ted was the one sleeping beside him. Why couldn’t he just be grateful to be married to Jeanette? Why wasn’t she enough for him? 

Marco pushed aside these thoughts. He had work to do. He skimmed the messages from his advisers and turned to all of the news updates. Stuff about international relations, mostly, nothing too interesting. He went to Twitter. He scrolled through some nonsense, but the third post in his feed was… 

Rubio slammed his computer shut and shoved it towards the end of the bed. He wished he could burn the image from his retinas--Ted Cruz with his arm over his wife’s shoulders. 

He buried his face in his hands. He shouldn’t have cared. So what, Cruz was married? He was married too, to a former cheerleader, no less. The Texan should just go live his own life, and Marco would live his, and everything would be fine. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Cruz had two daughters-- _so what, I have four kids_ \--so Ted and Heidi must have had sex at least twice. That was double the amount of times that Marco had been intimate with the man. And if he was being honest with himself, they probably made love fairly regularly. 

Rubio could see it. Heidi would be just finishing up the dishes, Caroline and Catherine long asleep upstairs. Ted would tiptoe into the kitchen and rest his head on his wife’s shoulders and his hands on her hips. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I can do the rest,” he’d say. She’d smile appreciatively and step aside to go pour them glasses of wine. He would join her on the couch later, and he’d pretend to be interested in what had happened to her that day. In reality, he would just be watching the way her lips moved as she spoke and would think about kissing them. Ted would then shift his attention to the way she gestured with her hands, remembering fondly what she had used those hands for in the past. 

_Stop it, Marco. Stop._

___Eventually there’d be a pause in the conversation, so Heidi would snuggle up against her husband. That would be when Ted started combing her hair with his fingers, whispering about how beautiful she was. She would reward that with a kiss, innocent at first, but then he would intertwine his fingers behind her head and pull her closer, just like the older man had done to Rubio…_ _ _

_Oh my God, stop. Stop._

____Ted would take control soon enough, pushing his wife onto her back and settling down on top of her. He knew exactly what Heidi wanted. He always would always start slowly and then pick up the pace, moving his hands up and down her sides while their lips sparred. She would always moan when Ted got his hands under her shirt, groping at her breasts. Moments later, her shirt would come off, followed shortly by her bra. He buried his face into her chest, and Heidi would yelp with pleasure._ _ _ _

____“Teddy, please…”_ _ _ _

____And Cruz would do as she asked. He would always make a little show of taking off his clothes, moving his shoulders in little circles and swaying his hips about as he stripped for his wife. Once they both were naked, he would hop back onto her with fervent passion._ _ _ _

_Don’t do this to yourself, Marco. Don’t…_

_____Even though he didn’t look it, Cruz would be a bit of an expert with the ladies. He would know exactly what to do, what to touch, and soon his wife would be screaming. Rubio could see it all too well--Ted driving his cock inside of Heidi, both of their faces twisted with pleasure. But he could see the little smile they would both share, they way their eyes connected, that they loved each other. They trusted each other so much._ _ _ _ _

_____Cruz would make sure his wife orgasmed first, always putting others before himself. She would come squealing his name. He would follow moments later, and they would keep each other’s naked bodies warm until they would decide to trudge upstairs and go to sleep._ _ _ _ _

_____Marco felt the hot tears on his cheeks. It was ridiculous, he told himself. They had hooked up once, in a moment of drunken, sleep-deprived weakness. He probably meant nothing to Ted, and Ted should mean nothing to him…But he couldn’t get the goddamn Senator out of his head. Hopping out of bed, Rubio started to pace the hotel room. Maybe, if he moved around enough, the knife would dislodge itself from his chest._ _ _ _ _


	3. The Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another debate...

“Marco.”

The voice of the Iowa caucus winner sliced through the warm air of the hotel hallway. Rubio turned around, his key card still on the sensor of his door. The green light appeared, but he didn’t move to enter. 

“Cruz,” he said, stiffening at the sound of his name on his lover’s lips. He couldn’t look at the other man-- _the man he cheated on his wife for, the man he had SODOMIZED_ \-- focusing instead on the top of his nose. Marco’s heart rate soared, pounding more violently than it had on the stage of the televised Republican Debate. He cursed himself. He could handle the attention of millions of American viewers, but he couldn’t stand the company of one man. 

“I was impressed with your answer on climate change,” Ted said. Despite the normalcy of his statement, sensuality still creeped into his voice. Marco felt like punching the door in front of him. _Why does he do this to me? Why is he tempting me like this?_

“Thanks,” he said, responding automatically to the compliment. He could only hear the blood rushing in his ears. The younger man placed his hand on the doorknob in front of him, resigning himself to just heading back inside his hotel room and just blocking Rafael Edward Cruz from his mind. 

He knew, on some level, that would never happen. Marco hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the older man ever since they made eye contact on that first day in the Senate. They had passed each other in the hallway, both headed for different committee meetings. A small smile had danced across Cruz’s rose-colored lips, nodding to the freshman senator. Rubio had heard his name on the news, but never before did he have the privilege of matching a beautiful face to that elegant name. And he saw that face everywhere he went--in the crowds he spoke to, in his campaign manager and advisors, even in his wife, Jeannette. 

And sometimes, when he allowed himself a second or two to remember, he would cherish the memories of their previous hookup, when the Texan had had his way with him. 

_STOP._

“Wait,” Ted said, approaching Marco with his hands in his pockets and his cocky little grin on his face. Rubio froze, his doorknob half-turned. “Aren’t you going to return the compliment?” 

The younger Senator could have released an avalanche of compliments upon the man, mentioning everything from his brown eyes to melodic voice to the way he had known exactly how to pleasure him. But he just closed his eyes. “You did great, Cruz.”

“You think I did great after the first debate, didn’t you?”

Marco’s face flushed at the memory of their former lovemaking. “We can’t do this again. We knew that.”

The more experienced Senator smiled, leaning close to whisper in his ears. “I love it when you make me fight for you.”

“I’m serious!” Marco exclaimed, spinning around and stepping back. “If the press found out…”

But Ted moved too fast, slamming the younger man against the hotel wall and interlocking their lips with that same passion again. Cruz squeezed the younger man’s shoulders. Maybe if he held him tightly enough they’d never have to part. Their embrace was a war, a prayer, a necessity. 

Marco tried to rally his willpower, attempting in vain to convince himself that he didn’t want--that he didn’t need the older Senator, but his fight was futile. He gave into his lover. And the older man knew he would. 

Rubio fumbled for his key, still dimly concerned about being spotted. As soon as he opened the door, Cruz shoved the younger man inside.

“Get on the bed,” Ted ordered, and Marco’s heart fluttered as his dick hardened. 

The younger man didn’t move, biting the edge of his lip. “Make me.”

Ted bounded towards Rubio, throwing his entire weight on top of the Floridian and full-on tackling him. Most of Marco landed on the bed, with the exception of his legs, and the other Senator wasted no time manhandling his lover and yanking the rest of him onto the covers. Now Cruz could finally get to work. He assailed Rubio’s neck with his lips, biting and kissing without caring who would see the marks. If only the world could know that the little pretty-boy Marco was his forever. Ted unbuttoned the younger man’s shirt as fast as he could manage.

Rubio moaned under his lover’s onslaught. He relished the knowledge that Ted was all over him. Flinging his hands around the Texan, he started to rub every inch of his back and shoulders.

“No,” Cruz ordered, abruptly leaning away. Marco pouted at the loss, confused. And then Ted loosened his tie and ran his tongue over his teeth with his mischievous grin. 

“Oh,” Rubio panted as the older man grabbed his wrists and tied him to the headboard. He was going to be completely at the subjugation of his lover--which happened to be his favorite place in the world. 

“Oh, God, you’re mine,” Cruz said. That smile was back. “Now, I have some ideas.”

Marco couldn’t imagine spending their limited time together doing anything but fucking. He needed his lover, and passing these fleeting minutes watching this beautiful creature without making love to him sounded like torture.

Ted reached into his pocket and produced his phone. After a few clicks, he held up the screen to Rubio’s face.

“You’re going to read one of my speeches from tonight,” he said, his voice husky with arousal.   
“While I fuck you.”

“Yes, sir,” Marco said, his cock hardening as the older man spoke. 

And then Rubio felt his perfectly tailored pants being ripped off by his lover’s tornado of passion. 

“Start reading,” Cruz huffed, working off the his own shirt with his free hand while holding the phone up with the other. 

“I was proud to--” Marco tried, but the sight in front of him killed his voice. His lover’s stripping was too distracting. 

“Don’t stop,” Ted said, his hand freezing on his belt buckle as a warning. 

“I was proud to lead 31 states before the--” Rubio said, but again his eyes wandered to his lover fighting his underwear off his plump little hips. He watched in awe as Cruz’s erect dick sprung free. His own cock throbbed in his briefs, which he hoped his lover would remove soon. 

“I told you to keep reading,” Ted said, leaning over and biting the younger man’s nipple. Marco yelped with equal parts pleasure and pain, shocked by the unconventional act. Then Cruz moved his teeth to the other one. His teeth lingered this time, pulling at the younger man’s areola. Rubio yanked at his restraints and tensed up, moving his hips a few inches off the bed. Ted didn’t release him for a solid ten seconds. The younger man groaned and writhed all the while. Once freed, he collapsed back down, panting. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Cruz asked, his eyes showing he had more ideas for punishments. 

“Yes, sir,” Rubio breathed, shifting his attention back to the speech on the screen in front of his face. “I was proud to lead 31 states before the U.S. Supreme Court defending the Second Amendment, and we--”

Marco struggled to keep speaking as he felt his underwear being torn off and a strong hand pulling one of his asscheeks off to the side. 

“--we won that landmark victory. And indeed, just a couple of years ago, when Harry Reid and Barack--”

And then the younger man yelped, unable to stop himself as he felt a lubed finger rest itself on top of his entrance. “Oh, God, Ted…”

“I don’t think that’s in my speech,” Cruz warned, and then jammed the digit up the Floridian’s asshole. Rubio bit back a scream and tried to focus again.

“Barack Obama came right....after the right to keep and b-bear arms...of...m-millions of Americans, I was proud to lead the fight in the United States Senate--”

His words grew breathier and farther apart as he exhaled frantically to cope with the increasing number of fingers entering him. Rubio felt the older man scissoring him open, working his hole nice and loose.

“--to protect our right t-to...keep and bear arms, and for that reason...for that reason I was honored to be--ahh! Ahhhhh!” he screamed, feeling the digits leave him to be replaced by the older man’s rock hard cock. He felt the length slowly work his way into his asshole. Eventually it filled him completely. It was so perfect; Marco felt like he was connected to Cruz in a way he had never been tied to anyone before. 

And then Ted started thrusting, pulling himself out just to dive further into Rubio. The obscene sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room, mixing with the two men’s moans and Marco’s attempts to read the speech. 

“I was honored to...BE ENDORSED...BY…” Rubio’s voice rose in pitch and intensity as the older man fucked him even harder. 

“Keep reading! Fuckkk, keep reading!” Ted growled. 

Marco fought against his restraints, his body arching and squirming. His vision blurred as his lover drove his dick right into his prostate. The younger man’s cock throbbed, covered in pre-come. 

“ENDORSED BY GUN OWNERS OF AMERICA...AS THE STR-STRONGEST SUPPORTER...OF…” Rubio screamed, fighting for every word. He didn’t care who heard him. He just needed his lover. He just needed to orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m close. Fuck, keep reading!” Ted panted. He slapped the Floridian’s ass to encourage him. 

“SUPPORTER OF THE S-SECOND AMENDMENT ON...THE...STAGE--FUCK!” Marco’s body bucked violently as he came. The look on his lover’s face, lost in the bliss of his climax, was enough to send Cruz over the edge. He dropped his phone off the side of the bed as he rode out his high. Leaving his cock inside the young man, Ted lay down on top of him. 

“God, that was perfect,” Marco said after a while, after their breathing had synchronized in a pleasant reminder of their mutual passion.

“You’re perfect,” Cruz smiled, and the two Republican presidential candidates shared a kiss.


	4. The Fourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When candidates have some free time...(BRACE YOURSELF FOR FLUFF)

Cruz walked into the secluded library, breathing in the familiar smell of the ancient books and enjoying the soothing knowledge that for once, he wasn’t being watched or recorded. No walking that precarious line of what to say and do. No pressure to be flawless all the time. No dodging attacks from people he knew hated him with a passion. Just himself and shelves upon shelves of some of his favorite things in the world. He ambled to the poetry section. No one knew he read poetry. Certainly Trump would have a field day if he found out. That made it better, in a way. It was nice to have something about himself that the media couldn’t manipulate. He contemplated the shelves. There was everything from A Service of Song to Zanthon. He settled on The Carrier of Ladders and strolled away to his favorite reading spot, a couple of cushions in a sunlit corner of the huge library. As he neared his destination, he noticed someone else perched on the cushions. He frowned, getting a little closer. He was about to give the man a piece of his mind for stealing his spot when he realized it was none other than Marco Rubio sitting there. Cruz smiled to himself. The younger man looked so different when he wasn’t in a suit. Before his nerves got them best of him, he sat down next to him, wrapped his arm around the younger man and kissed him on the cheek.

“What the fu-- _Ted_?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Rubio, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat. Cruz smirked at the startled expression on his face.

“I do read occasionally, you know.” He tightened his grip on the Floridian’s shoulder. 

“Why...why’d you kiss me?” 

Ted frowned, slightly disconcerted by the question. To be honest, he didn’t really know why he’d done it either. It had seemed right. It had felt right. He was surprised by how much he wanted to spend time with the younger Senator.

“Well, I’ve been thinking. About...this. About us. I don’t just want sex--although don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of that if you want--but I want, well, I want to be with you.”

“Like dating?” Rubio replied, inwardly cringing about how middle school he sounded.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’d be risky. We can’t let anyone find out. But it’s worth a try, right?” Cruz waited anxiously for his answer. God, he’d never show his face again if he got rejected.

 

“Well...okay. I never told you, but...after that first debate...well, I’d never felt anything like that before then. It...it was nice.”

“Really? Just nice?” 

“Well, it was incredible.” Marco said it quickly, then ducked his head down in an effort to hide the blush on his face. The older man’s grin stretched wider. It felt so good to make him blush like that. Ted lifted the book out his hands and inspected it.

“An autobiography of Herbert Hoover?” he asked incredulously.

“What’s wrong with that?” the younger Senator retorted.

“Nothing, I’d just have pegged you as a Harry Potter fan or something.”

“I’ve never read the Harry Potter books. My parents told me to never read anything supernatural when I grew up. They thought it would confuse me about God. What’re you reading?”

Cruz hesitated, then showed him the cover of his book.

“The Carrier of Ladders? Is that a hardware book or something?” Cruz raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s poetry.”

“Oh. I’ve never really understood it. I tried reading a couple poems once, but they made no sense to me,” Rubio said.

“Well, maybe you’re reading the wrong ones.”

“Read me one,” the younger man said, suddenly curious.

The Texan opened it up to his favorite poem and cleared his throat. It felt so personal to share it with someone, but it was weirdly nice.

“It’s called ‘The Calling Under the Breath.’ Okay. ‘Through the evening/ the mountains approach over the desert/ sails from a windless kingdom/ silence runs through the birds/ their shadows freeze/ where are you/ where are you where are you/ I have set sail on a fast mountain/ whose shadow is everywhere.’” He blushed slightly, hiding his face behind the book to avoid seeing Rubio’s reaction. Marco gently pulled the book down to reveal the older man’s face, sensing his embarrassment. 

“I liked that, surprisingly enough.” 

“Hopefully you liked it more than your Herbert Hoover.”

“I did. I’m taking that book from you.” He grabbed the tome and admired its cover art. “You don’t mind if I take this back to my room, do you?” the Floridian Senator asked.

“I don’t care, just as long as I can take you to mine.” 

Rubio felt a flutter go up his spine. “It’s a deal.” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Marco?” Cruz’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“...No?”

Ted pulled him in with his newly free hand and kissed him lightly on the lips. Rubio’s eyes widened as the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Always seal your deals with a kiss.”

Rubio frowned. “That might be problematic. I might have to make a deal with someone a lot less attractive than you.”


	5. The Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some kinky sexy time...(we're so sorry this exists)

Rubio sighed with relief. Finally, the debate he’d been so nervous about was over. He’d done great, too. It had been so satisfying to slam down on Trump. He leaned back into his bed and closed his eyes. Finally, a well deserved nap.

BRINNNNNG! He woke up to his cell ringing loudly by his ear. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and glanced at the caller ID. Jeanette. Ugh. Rather embarrassing to admit it, but he’d all but forgotten about his wife. He answered his phone reluctantly. 

“Hi, honey. Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just that the kids and I miss you.” 

Marco felt a jab of guilt at the mention of his kids, but before he could ponder it, Jeanette was talking again. “I’m just calling to let you know that Rich has scheduled a detour for me in Florida. I’ll be talking to women’s groups, getting you the maximum Floridian vote. I won’t be back for another two days. Usually he says he wants us to be seen together.” 

Rubio felt a strange conjoinment of excitement and shame at her words. Suddenly, he started to feel impatient. He hastily looked for a way out of the conversation. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Listen, honey, I have to go. It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted. Tell the kids I say hi.”

“Alright. Oh, you did great at the debate, by the way. See you in two days,” she responded. Marco hung up and considered his situation for a moment. The impatientness hadn’t left him, but it was mixed with something else. He wanted to do something wild. Insane. Stupid, maybe. He glanced at the clock. 11:38. He reached for the telephone on his beside table and dialed Cruz’s hotel room. He hoped the older Senator would be awake. Cruz picked up on the third ring. 

“What’s up?”

“Want to do something crazy?” Rubio asked.

“Of course I do. Do you want to come up to my room? Heidi’s not here tonight.”

“Nope. Let’s go somewhere crazier.” 

“Where?” asked Ted, raising an eyebrow in suspicion even though the younger man couldn’t see him.

“The stage.”

“The stage? What are you talking about?” Cruz asked, bewildered. 

“The stage we debated on today. Let’s go there.”

“What the fuck. Okay,” the Texan said, feeling his heart rate increase. “I need to get ready. Meet me downstairs at midnight. We’ll take my car. Look cute for me,” Cruz ordered.

“See you then.”  
...  
Rubio paced the deserted hotel lobby, waiting for his lover. The clock hanging above the empty front desk read 11:56. He had gotten ready as best as he could, shaving everywhere he could reach with his razor, dabbing his best cologne on his wrists, and combing his hair. He hoped the Texan would consider him “cute” enough. At exactly midnight, Rubio felt an arm around his waist. He glanced up, and smiling down at him was Cruz.

“Ready to go?” the older Senator asked.

“Ready.” Ted grabbed his hand and led him out to his car. 

“It's a rental. No one will recognize it.” 

Rubio nodded, impressed. Cruz turned on the radio, blasting Wanted Dead Or Alive.

“You like Bon Jovi?” the younger man asked, surprised.

“Of course I do. He's a genius.”

“Absolutely. His vocal range is amazing.” 

Ted smirked. “From what you've shown me, so is yours.” Rubio blushed at the memory. They pulled up at the stage. Marco grabbed Cruz's hand and led him to the back door, pulling out a set of keys with his spare hand. He slid a long, oblong key through the door. After a moment of fiddling, the door clicked open. 

“How'd you do that?” the Texan whispered. 

“Bump key. They can open any lock from this brand.” After Rubio locked the door behind them, the two men tiptoed down a hallway into the deserted stage. Marco’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure his lover could hear it. The anticipation in the air was thick enough to be tangible. Cruz walked into the middle of the stage and beckoned for the younger man to join him. Once they were together in the center, Cruz adjusted Rubio so that he was in the back of the stage, facing the audience and then walked towards the front of the stage, still facing the younger man. A sexy, authoritative smile spread on his face. 

“Strip for me.” 

Rubio's eyes widened at the order. The excitement of breaking in hadn't left his system--in fact, the thrill was intensifying. Fine--if it was a show Ted wanted, it was a show he'd get. Never taking his eyes off his lover, he pulled off his belt, painstakingly slowly. He sauntered over to Cruz and tossed his belt around the older Senator's neck. He leaned in and kissed him teasingly, closed mouthed. He saw the Texan’s dick start to make a bulge in his dress pants and smirked, exalted by his effect on Ted. He retreated back to the center of the stage and started to pull his pants off, as painstakingly slowly as he could manage while his dick was begging to be fondled by the older man. He ate up his lover's rapturous expression. At last, he had pulled off his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. Cruz had done enough waiting. He strode up to Rubio and pulled the rest of his shirt off. He glanced at the younger man's light blue boxers. He reached out and grabbed the silky fabric, along with some of Rubio's ass.

“Boxers? I told you to look cute for me. This won't do at all.”

“I can take them off if you want,” Rubio responded, his eyes sparkling with lust.

“That won't be necessary,” Cruz responded, an evil glint in his eye. “I came prepared.” From his pocket, the older man pulled out something lacy and black. He tossed it at Rubio, who caught it and looked it over. 

“A _thong?_ ” 

“Heidi's thong,” the Texan responded. “Put it on. Now.” Cruz snatched at Rubio’s boxers and pulled them off. He felt his heart rate go up at the masterpiece that was Marco’s penis. He swore it got bigger every time he saw it. The younger Senator pulled the panties on, carefully draping his dick out the hole in the crotch. 

“Am I cute enough for you yet?” he asked, walking up to Ted and draping his arms around the other man’s neck. Cruz grabbed him with surprising force and spun him around so that his back was to the older Senator. The next thing Marco knew, his eyes were being covered in some red, white, and blue fabric. “What the fuck is that?”

“A little American flag, of course. Gotta stay patriotic.” Before he could adjust to the blindness, he felt Ted steering him around the stage and shoving him, stomach against the back of a podium. Tenacious hands forced his torso onto the slanted top. 

“I’m not quite done with you yet, Senator.” Cruz stepped to the front of the podium, pulling out a coil of rope from another pocket. He grabbed Rubio’s hands and jerked him closer to the top of the podium so that the Floridian was on his tiptoes. He wrapped the length of rope around Rubio's wrists, binding them together and tying them to the top of the podium. Once finished, he glanced at Rubio, the smile on his face, the way his usually neat hair was fucked up--he was so sexy. Unable to resist himself, he leaned in and kissed Marco over the podium, biting at the Floridian’s lips with such zeal he started to taste blood. His hands cupped Rubio’s face, pulling him in. God, he lived for the feeling of Rubio’s lips his own, the sounds of his moans against his ears. With effort, he pulled away and looked at his lover. Rubio frowned at the absence of the Texan. He needed him, and now. 

“Hey, Cruz. Are you gonna fuck me? Or is your courage half the size of your dick?” Rubio asked, challenging him with every word. Ted clenched his teeth. 

“I’ll show you how big my courage is.” He yanked off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it, not even flinching at the sound of the seams ripping apart. He reached for his underwear and then paused. Rubio had mocked him with that little strip tease...now it was his turn to fuck with his lover into submission. He stepped behind the Floridian and put his hand on the back of the younger man’s neck, tauntingly trailing all the way down to tease the sensitive skin behind his balls. Marco gasped as his back arched. Cruz grabbed him by the waist, pulling himself towards Rubio and grinding against him. With his free hand, he grabbed a handful of the younger man’s hair and yanked it back so he could bite at his neck. Marco gasped. Even though he couldn’t see, his senses felt flooded with stimulation. He strained against the rope. “Hold still,” Ted ordered. 

“Why should I?” Instead of answering, the Texan pried the younger man’s mouth open and shoved a few fingers in.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet, and then you’ll see why you should stay still.” Rubio did as he was told, partly because Ted was fucking sexy when he was ordering him around, and of course also because he really didn’t want to get fucked with dry fingers. Cruz suppressed a moan as he felt his lover’s tongue on his fingers. He pulled his fingers sharply out of Rubio’s mouth and then reached down and tore the thong off of his lover. Tossing the destroyed underwear over his shoulder, he reached down, steeled his breath, and shoved the tip of his pointer finger into his asshole. Rubio gasped, his fingers clenching the rope for dear life. Cruz gave him a moment to adjust before slowly pushing it into his ass, exploring him with his fingers. Marco made a weird noise between a grunt and a scream, urging the Texan on. Ted’s dick was palpitating inside his boxers. Rubio seemed to read his mind.

“Do it. Do it, Cruz...NOW...you want me? You have me.” Giving up on self control, Ted pulled his boxers off in one swift movement and rested his shaft on Rubio’s ass, positioning it so that it was right on top of his asshole. Then, without so much as a warning, he shoved his dick into his ass, skillfully driving it right up his prostate. Rubio wailed as quietly as he could manage with the combination of the burning pain and luscious pleasure in his ass. Then, just as suddenly, it was no longer in him. Rubio waited, but it didn’t come back. He felt Cruz’s hands at the back of his head, untying the flag. The blindfold fell away to reveal Ted’s smirking face in front of him. 

“What the fuck?”

“We’re taking this to the ground, Little Marco,” the older Senator replied. Rubio felt the rope drop to the ground and Ted’s hands yanking him away from the podium. Still pissed at the interruption--not to mention the embarrassing nickname Trump’s fans had bestowed on him, Rubio whirled around to face the Texan’s and shoved him onto the ground, stomach up. He straddled the older senator, taking both his wrists in one of his hands so he could plant the other on Cruz’s chest, holding him to the floor. Although Marco considered himself to be a bottom, he was exhilarated by the knowledge that he could render Ted Cruz into submission. 

“Now it's your turn to stay still,” Rubio commanded, tightening his grip on the older Senator's wrists. Cruz seemed to be suppressing a laugh.

“I will if you ask nicely.” 

Rubio raised an eyebrow.

“Nicely? You know I never do anything _nicely,_ ” he said, stroking Ted's nipple with his thumb. “That's fine, though. I won't have to convince you in a second. It's time for me to return all of those favors.” Before Ted could react to his words, Rubio was all over him, biting at his collarbones, moving up to kiss at his neck with such passion that he left bruises, his knees gouging into Cruz’s abdomen the whole time. Cruz clenched his teeth to repress his groans, digging his nails into his hand. Marco leaned in and kissed him, their teeth bumping together painfully as Rubio shoved his head into the ground with the weight of their kiss. Cruz was heaving, apprehension overtaking his fight to overpower the younger Senator. Rubio had done enough waiting himself. God, he wanted to be inside of Cruz. He wanted to explore every inch of his ass, and he felt like he needed to. Fuck waiting. 

In one swift movement, he flipped the Texan onto his stomach. His hands shook as he contemplated the man beneath him. Not wanting to hurt the older Senator, he started with a finger. The moans that he elicited from Ted...no wonder Cruz enjoyed fingering him so much. There was nothing like exploring his lover and pleasuring him like that. Once he figured the hole was stretched enough, he navigated his dick right above the entrance and then pushed it in, as slowly and ardently as he could manage. Ted gasped as it entered, painfully aware of the lack of lube. As it kept getting deeper, he could feel his eyes tearing up with the sheer torment of the situation. God, it felt so amazing. He didn’t know whether to scream or smile, so he compromised and let out a pathetic whimper that he’d be embarrassed about if he was with anyone but the Floridian. 

Marco shoved his cock in deeper, reveling in the feeling of Ted’s warm, tight ass enveloping his manhood. He could feel himself getting hotter and wetter. The stage was sweltering and humid, and both men were slick with sweat. He could feel the older man shuddering below him, shaking Rubio along with him. It felt like forever before he finally came, and when he did, it was such a release. The stress from earlier in the day had disappeared. He was strangely relaxed after such a heated exchange. He pulled out carefully before collapsing next to Ted. 

The older man sat up and leaned against a podium, wrapping his arm around Marco and pulling his head into his lap. The Floridian closed his eyes, comforted by the warmth of the Cruz’s crossed legs. His relaxation had given way into fatigue, and he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, curled up next to his lover. Unfortunately, his phone beeped, reminding him that it was past one in the morning and he had another day of campaigning ahead of him. He stood up reluctantly and offered Ted a hand. He took it, and Rubio pulled him up. The two men got dressed in comfortable silence. The older man grabbed all of his things and then took Marco’s hand, leading him to the car. Once they were at the hotel, they rode up the elevator together. Too soon, the elevator stopped at the Floridian’s floor. He looked at Ted, a small smile on his face. 

“Senator Cruz.” 

Ted returned the smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Senator Rubio.”

Marco squeezed his hand and then walked into his hotel room, leaving the night full of memories behind.


	6. The Sixth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The babes talk about their feelings n shit

Rubio leaned into his pillow, closing his eyes. The resounding applause of his speech in North Carolina from only a few hours ago had given him the worst headache he’d experienced in this entire campaign. While the speech hadn’t gone too badly, he was exhausted, and aggressively unprepared to deal with the GOP debate that was steadily approaching. He was growing to hate those things. It was so wearisome to have to be on guard for hours at a time, just waiting for someone to challenge his agenda. The things some of them said...It was a war out there. 

It didn’t help that Cruz was always a mere twenty feet away from him. It kept getting harder and harder to focus when something else was getting harder and harder. He could feel his panic levels rising as he contemplated his predicament. His brain felt filled to the capacity. He needed to let some of his feelings out before he exploded. But who could he talk to? He opened his phone and started frantically searching through his contacts. Amanda. Anthony. Daniella. Domonick. Jeanette. Rich, his deputy campaign manager. A bunch of random colleagues. God. Was he really this alone? Well...no. He opened the drawer of his bedside table. Next to his bible, the copy of The Carrier of Ladders rested where he’d left it last night. He opened it up and let the piece of paper fall out. Ted had given it to him after scrawling his cell number on it, telling the younger man to call him “when he was needed.” Whatever Cruz had meant by that, Rubio needed him. Now. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his iPhone and dialed the number. The older man picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Ted. It’s...it’s me.”

“Marco?”

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“In my hotel room. I just got home.”

“Come over to mine. I’m a floor down. Please. My wife is several hundred miles away from me, and she won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.” Rubio was too caught up in emotion to care about how stupid he sounded. Ted was silent for a second. Marco’s heart pounded. What if he said no? The younger man needed him--although this was a different kind of need than when he and Cruz had had that first glorious night together. He didn’t need to be fucking him--he just needed to be with him. Finally, Ted responded.

“I’ll be there in two minutes.” 

Rubio waited impatiently, pacing his hotel room. The two minutes seemed to drag on for hours. Finally, there was a knock on his door. He flung it open to Cruz’s smiling (if somewhat sleepy) face. He was so relieved to see him. He wanted to be held by him. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted so much, but he didn’t know how to ask. 

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” 

Marco stepped aside, and Ted strode into his hotel room. He closed the door behind him and watched as the older man looked around.

“Damn. This room is as barren as the space between Trump’s ears. Why don’t you spice it up a little bit? Or is that why I’m here?” Cruz was smiling, but his grin faded as he turned around and witnessed the expression on the younger Senator’s face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flopped onto the bed, kicking his shoes off uncharacteristically casually. Marco dropped down next to him. 

“I’m not really sure what to say. I don’t really like talking about...about how I feel. I’ve never really done it before.” Rubio responded.

“Just talk.”

“Well...I don’t really know what’s wrong. I’m just not feeling myself.” 

“What do you mean by that? In, like, a good way? Or a bad way?”

“Kind of...neither? All I know is some type of change is taking place. I don’t know how I feel about it yet. I’m just so confused. God, I hate being confused.”

“When did all of this start?” Ted asked, moving closer to the younger man. The two men sat in silence, Cruz waiting patiently for Marco’s answer. The Texan leaned forward, trying to catch his eyes, but they were downcast. 

“Marco. You can talk to me.” Rubio seemed to crumple, exhaustion weighing his muscular frame down. He grabbed the bundled-up covers from the bottom of the bed and pulled them up to cover both men to their chests. He collapsed backwards onto the mattress, closing his eyes before he started speaking. Ted quietly laid beside him, positioning himself on his side so he could watch the younger Senator.

“I...I don’t know. It’s...weird with this election. Before it, I had a plan. I knew what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be--or at least I thought I did. Even if I didn’t necessarily enjoy all of it, it was a lot easier than now. Now, I don’t know--every day, I wake up questioning everything. Who I am. Who I want to be. Who I should be. It’s not like I knew the answers before...I just never asked myself the questions. I don’t even know if I want to know the answers. It’s a lot less chaotic when I’m in the dark.” He kept his eyes squeezed shut, afraid that the older man would judge him.

“I understand.” 

Rubio’s eyes popped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been expecting...he didn’t even know what he’d been expecting. 

Ted eyed him carefully before continuing. “I do the same thing. I’ve been doing it since I was little. It’s always about control, control, control. I don’t really trust anyone but myself to get the job done, you know? Ever since...ever since we first...well, you know. Ever since then, I can’t even trust myself. I speak against gay rights onstage. I...I pretend to be the Ted Cruz that everyone wants to see. But...I’m not. And I never will be. I hate dealing with that.” 

All Marco could do was stare. He’d never known Cruz felt that way. He had such a confident, dominant presence that it was hard to believe. Well...not too difficult. He supposed the Cruz that he saw onstage couldn’t be a carbon copy of the Cruz that had jammed several fingers up the younger man’s ass the other day. After what felt like a full minute of staring at each other, Ted broke the silence.

“Are you gonna respond, or just stay silent and let me feel like an idiot?”

“No, of course not. I...I guess I’m just kinda shocked. I never would have guessed that...that you felt that way. But no. I get it. That’s why I’ve always loved a good competition. You have something to work for, you know? Something to focus on other than the present.” He looked up at the older man. “So, is this a presidential candidate problem or an ‘us’ problem?” 

Cruz smirked. “I don’t know. I have a hard time believing Trump worries about this.”

Marco snorted. “I wish I knew what to do about...about God, though. I feel as if I've failed Him. But it feels so amazing.”

Nodding, Cruz said, “Me too. My Bible seems to taunt me. I've always been a good Christian--it’s something I pride myself on. There are gay Republicans, though, like us. Maybe there can be gay Christians.”

The younger senator smiled at that. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the Texan responded. “So are you gonna kick me out now? Or do I get to stay a little longer? Heidi's in the hotel room and I really don't feel like dealing with her.”   
Rubio leaned into him, tentatively resting his head just above the older man's collarbone. Ted reached for Marco’s hand under the covers, and the Floridian relished in the reassuring grip of his lover. He felt so safe when they were together. 

“So, if you were an animal, which would you be?” Ted asked. Rubio stared at him. “What? It's a perfectly common question. Besides, I'm curious.”

“Ok, let me think,” Rubio played along. “A manatee.” 

Now it was Cruz’s turn to stare. “What on God's green earth is a manatee?”

“They’re giant sea mammals. Basically all they do is eat, sleep and swim around. Sounds like a nice life.” He saw the skeptical look on his lover’s face and hastened to elaborate. “I mean, don’t you ever want to take a break from everything? Enjoy things instead of wondering how you can change them? I pride myself on my ability to improve America, but it also seems, well, nice to just be satisfied with what you have.”

And for once, Ted could understand how someone could be happy with what they had as he gazed at the man in his arms.


	7. The Seventh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...angst incoming...

Marco sat at the rickety hotel desk, hurrying through some reports. Although they were supposedly important, he could barely comprehend what he was reading. Ted was occupying his mind once again. It was amazing, really. Who would have thought that one man could change him so much in such little time? Before this, Rubio had never considered himself an emotional man. Feelings were just obtrusive, extraneous inconveniences. Everything he did was done with a cool, objective attitude. Some people referred to him as laid-back. Others considered it sociopathic, earning him the nickname “Rubot.” He had been content to stay like this forever. That was until Ted exploded into his life, intent on showing him all that he was missing. 

Cruz. He had never met anyone more driven by emotion. Everything that he felt--and he felt quite a lot--was felt zealously. There were two sides to his alluring persona. There was the good side, when he was filled with love, joy and competence. When he felt these emotions, he would express with such passion that he seemed to emit a glow from within. Rubio lived for that glow, for that beauty. But the Texan also showed him the darker side of feelings. Marco had been exposed to the vulnerability of caring about someone, the fear of wanting someone he could never have. 

Was it worth it? The Floridian Senator hadn’t been sure. Now he was. He wouldn’t go back to being an emotionless shell of himself for anything in the world. He could finally feel. Now he had to figure out what he wanted to do with those feelings.  
…  
Ted sat on the edge of his bed, lost in his head. Thinking about nothing and everything. Free from worrying about this, stressing about that. He was on an island all alone, his hyperactive conscience silent, his troubles distant landmarks along the hazy horizon. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so at peace. He had a tendency to blow things out of proportion, after all. This trait could be good, of course; it certainly helped him hook the public when he was talking about a crisis, or when he needed to lie, which was often. But it, as with every other good thing, had its drawbacks. Feeling everything to an extreme meant feeling the good...and the bad. Sleepless nights driven by stress. Exploding when he got angry. Depressive moods that would last for days. 

This particular campaign had been especially excruciating. As a politician, he had to hide so much onstage. He would never get elected if the Republican party knew how much he hated himself. So he bottled it up. This would make him experience even more negative emotion, which lead to even more bottling up. It was an endless cycle of pain that he could never truly escape. Until now. Even if this immunity was temporary, the eye in the hurricane...Cruz would be forever grateful to Rubio for it.

BRRRRIIING! 

Ted’s cellphone rang, the sharp ringtone jolting him back into reality. He blinked a few times, shook his head, and hastily answered his phone. “Senator Cruz here,” he said gruffly, still annoyed at the interruption. 

“Sir, it’s your strategist, Jason. There’s been...an online video.” 

“An online video of what?” he snapped. He’d been interrupted for this? 

“Well… sir… it’s unclear...but it involves you and Senator Rubio...” 

Instantly, icy fear shot up Cruz’s stomach, steadily climbing up his spine. “Out with it, Jason. Tell me everything. NOW!” he roared into his phone. 

“Well, sir...after last night’s debate, two men broke into the stage. Two men that looked like...you and Senator Rubio. They were on the stage together, and, um...someone took a video. And...it looked, from a certain angle… like the two men were, um, engaging in... anal intercourse.” Jason said the last two words very quickly, as if embarrassed. Cruz, on the other hand, was horrified. No, horrified wasn’t enough to describe how he felt. Petrified. Humiliated. Miserable. 

“Sir, are you okay?” Jason asked timidly. Cruz realized he’d been standing there, dead silent, for thirty straight seconds. He muttered a quick affirmation into the phone. “Sir, we’ve already gotten word out there that it’s not real. It must have been staged by the liberals or that awful Trump man--” 

“Yes, yes, very true,” said Cruz, cutting him off mid-sentence. He hung up and sank down onto his bed, letting out a low moan. At this point, he had two choices. A--Stay with Rubio. Give up everything he had ever wanted in life, get disowned by his family and political party, and waste all those years of suffering. Or B--he could stick with his campaign. Get wealth and fame and respect and power. Make a change. Be enough for his family for once. 

Who was he kidding? The obvious answer was B--but something in his head kept Rubio there. Somehow, the wealth, power, fame and respect...weren’t enough. He stood up and prepared to go to Marco’s hotel room. He was so confused. Two things he knew very certainly, though: One--he had to make a choice. And two--he had to make it before he reached the younger man’s room, exactly one floor above.


	8. The Eighth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually made my co-writer cry while writing this I was so proud

In his room, Rubio faced the mirror. 

"The government can’t change the weather. I said that in the speech. We can pass a bunch of laws that will destroy our economy, but it isn’t going to change the weather." He paused to throw a winning smile at his adoring (imaginary) audience. “If you elect m--” 

Someone knocked on his door, interrupting his impromptu practice interview. He headed to the door and opened it to find none other than Cruz. 

“What’re you doing here? Come back to get more of what I--” He broke off, staring at him. Something seemed very wrong. The Texan’s mouth was tensed into a straight line, his hands balled up into shaking fists at his sides. But the most disturbing thing was the startling lack of emotion in his face. He looked like a different person, like a shell of Ted Cruz. Rubio had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. The older man stared at him incredulously. 

“Did you see the article, you bastard? Of course I’m not okay.” 

“What article? What’s wrong with you?” Ignoring the question, Cruz pulled his phone out of his pocket, typed for a second, and handed the iPhone to him robotically. He gave the screen a quick glance, confused, and then looked up at Cruz. “What is this?” 

“Just read the damn article,” he replied through clenched teeth. Rubio looked down at the screen and was accosted with the headline “BREAKING NEWS: CRUZ AND RUBIO...RIVALS OR LOVERS?” Below was a blurry, unfocused video containing ten seconds of their lovemaking on the stage yesterday. Marco stared at the article without seeing the words. He looked up and met Ted’s eyes, which shared the same fear and pain as his own. 

“No. This...this can’t be happening. How...how did they--” 

“A janitor,” The older man replied, his voice clipped. He turned away from Rubio. 

“Ted, I’m...I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make this up to you. We can work through--” 

Cruz whirled on him, his eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t you dare say we can work through this. It would never work. We...would never work.” His face was creased with sadness. But Rubio was flaring with rage. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he bellowed. “Where is the Ted that I know and l--care about?” Despite his efforts, the younger man started tearing up. 

“Don’t cry, Marco. It’s for the best. I’m sorry.” 

The Floridian was reeling from his words. “Get the _fuck_ away from me, you FUCKING FAGGOT!” He shoved the older Senator away, just hard enough for the man to stumble backwards. Ted’s face contorted and his eyes glistened with the tears he had been trying to avoid.

“Marco…” he said, his once powerful voice barely a whisper.

Rubio was still shaking, but after a few deep breaths he had composed himself. “Just leave my room, leave my life, and stay the hell away from me. I don’t care. I have a nomination to win tomorrow.” He watched as Cruz walked out of his room, and maybe, out of his life. As a politician, the Floridian had lied quite a lot over the years. For some reason, that one little lie--”I don’t care”--hurt more than all the others combined.


	9. The Ninth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, nerds!! It's the end!!

It was finally the night before the actual nomination, after three endless days of deliberating over the party platform and hearing speeches from nearly every Republican on Earth. No single candidate had been able to acquire the majority of delegates during the primary process. The winner declared today at the roll call vote was anyone’s guess, with each notable news source proclaiming a different winner. 

Rubio paced in his hotel room, trying desperately to focus on his notes. Today would be important, dammit. The biggest day of his life. The day he would get all that he had been working for. It was obviously more important than a stupid little fling. So why was the prospect of being able to represent hundreds of millions of people paling in comparison to being with the man he loved? Rubio paced faster, his expensive loafers clicking against the shiny mahogany floor. 

“Come on, Marco, get it together!” He looked around the room. Everything reminded him of Ted. He turned to the wall. A picture of the Titanic. Cruise. Cruz… He whirled around. A map of Canada, the Senator’s home country. He sat on the bed. The soft covers reminded him of a different night on this very bed. Covers that Cruz had held him in. Covers where he was happy, where he could be himself. It was so hard to go back to the unfeeling, indifferent Marco. At once, the unfairness of it all hit him. Here he was, in agony. Forced to choose between everything he loved, question his beliefs, and live in fear of being exposed for the madman that he was--all because of that horrible, bigoted...sexy...dominant…

”Fuck!” 

Giving up on his notes, Rubio leaned back. Something caught his eye in the corner of the suitcase, just the tip sticking out of a pile of wrinkled clothes. He leaned forward and pulled out a familiar looking tie. Who did it belong to? He turned it around and found three small initials stitched into the smooth fabric. “REC.” Raphael Edward Cruz. It must have gotten into his stuff after the second debate. He clutched the tie to his chest and pulled the covers up to his chin, finally succumbing to the tears.

Too soon, it was morning. Rubio woke up still clutching Cruz’s tie. His latest (and maybe last) encounter with Ted hit him like a brick to the face. He stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was greeted by a zombie with sallow skin, bags under his eyes, and tear stains down his cheeks. Not the best way to make a good impression on the people of America. Fortunately, I’m well-versed in pretending to be things I’m not, he thought bitterly. After showering and changing into a suit, Rubio checked his reflection once more. Good. Now if only he could change the zombie on the inside. 

...  
  
The first thing Cruz registered the morning of the primary election was the smell of French toast. His favorite. Still half-asleep, he reminisced about his nanny; she would always make him the delicious treat when he woke up. They would sit on her patio, eating without a care in the world. Sometimes they would talk the entire time about anything. The dreams they had. The weather. Whatever was on their minds. Sometimes they just sat in companionable silence. The world seemed so perfect then. He missed those times, when everything was so simple. Since his nanny died when he was 11, his life had changed. It was all about success. Fame. Power. Money. Strange how he’d never factored happiness into “success.” Until he’d met…

”Ted? Ted!” 

His eyes shot open and he gasped, disoriented by the sudden brightness. Heidi stood over him, holding a plate full of his childhood memories with a side of maple syrup. “Good morning, sweetie--look, it’s your favorite!” 

Cruz mumbled something along the lines of “mhmrblumblr.” 

“That’s wonderful, sweetie. Now hurry up, get dressed and eat your breakfast. We’ve got a big day ahead of us!” She left the room. 

The Texan groaned, rubbing his eyes. He was so far from being able to take on the day. Hell, he wasn’t ready to take on the next hour. What would happen if he won the nomination? More stress, more campaigning? More suppressing his emotions? God, he was going to go insane. He already regretted ruining things between him and the younger Senator, even though the logical part of him knew it was for the best. At least it fit his “success” agenda. He scarfed down his breakfast without tasting it, pulled on his most expensive suit without really seeing it, and left his hotel room without so much as a glance in the mirror. 

He headed to the elevator, his mind still occupied with stress about his future. What did he even want in life? He thought he knew what he wanted. The presidency, right? Marco couldn’t be part of his life if he wanted to be president, but the regret was already plaguing him. Was it too late to start over? Go back French toast? Think for himself instead of letting his family control his life? He thought about Catherine and Caroline. What if one of them turned out to be gay? If so, he was preaching for them to grow up in a world where they might have to go through this very trauma. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. 

DING! 

The elevator doors slid open in front of him, revealing none other than Rubio. Cruz’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten that Marco was just a floor above him. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped into the elevator, immediately turning around so his back was to his former lover.

“Senator Cruz,” Rubio said, stiff. 

“Senator Rubio,” He replied, matching the clipped tone of voice. 

They rode the rest of the way down in tense silence. Ted wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Besides, if he opened his mouth, he would start crying, or worse, he would try to take back his words from yesterday. He tried to stay focused on his talking points, remembering his notes from his staff, but his eyes kept wandering to the younger man’s cute little butt. Only two layers of clothes separated Cruz from that ass he had dominated…

But then he was remembering the word Rubio had called him, the way he had shoved him away. Ted would be lying if he said he hadn’t reconsidered the breakup. Then he recalled the look on his former lover’s face--the hatred, the disgust--and his hopes deflated. How could they reconcile if Marco regarded him so lowly? Even though they had just known each other for a few months, Cruz didn’t know how he could carry on without the Floridian Senator...

Tears started to surface in his eyes. Blinking away the evidence of his hopelessness, he ordered himself to stop. He fixed his gaze just above Marco’s head. It was going to be a long day.  
…  
  
Rubio had never felt more empty after hours of shaking hands and kissing babies, Jeanette poised at his hip and a huge plastic smile on his face. He actually wondered if he had died in his sleep and gone to hell. Maybe this was how God was punishing him for his unfaithfulness and homosexuality--an eternity of pretending to care about the voters when all he could think about was Ted Cruz, Ted Cruz, Ted Cruz. He perked up at every mention of the name, every glimpse of the older man’s face in the crowds. 

Marco escaped to the bathroom around noon, locking himself immediately into a stall. He needed to be alone. He had to think. Everything was happening so fast and he felt like his grasp on reality was slipping away from him. 

Sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, Rubio rested his head on his hands. This was the fork in the road. He thought about what would happen if he did secure the nomination...the long battle against the Democratic front-runner and maybe four or eight years in the White House. If Cruz won the ticket, Marco would likely never have a personal conversation with him again. He would never feel the older man’s comforting voice lift him up, never feel his arms around him, never feel his dick inside of him…

He thought about running the country. He remembered growing up a poor son of immigrants, listening to his parents talk about Jimmy Carter as soon as he was old enough to vaguely grasp politics. Young Rubio had vowed to make a difference in his country. Becoming Florida state senator and US Congressman was one thing, but being the President was always his ultimate goal. Now, 37 years later from when he learned what the chief executive did, he was on the cusp of his dream.

And all he wanted was to throw it away. 

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and soon was staring at Ted’s contact information. Before he could stop himself, he fired off the word “hey” without any punctuation. He regretted the decision immediately. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned off the phone and pondered what an idiot he was. 

But after some time passed he started wondering if he had gotten a response. Even though his phone hadn’t buzzed and his lock screen showed no notifications, Marco opened up the device to check. There was no reply from the older man--just a little note that the text had been read four minutes ago. 

Rubio cursed himself. How did he expect Cruz to reply? They didn’t exactly have a casual texting relationship...or any kind of relationship anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Marco wrote, deliberating for a few seconds before sending the message. “For what I said,” he clarified in the following text. The read receipt appeared within a few seconds. But no reply came. 

“I love you,” Rubio typed out. He bit his lip, his thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button. Ted wasn’t replying--why bother confess if the Texan wasn’t going to care? Leaving the bathroom, Marco felt even worse than when he had entered.  
  
…

Ted collapsed down onto his bed as he stared at the texts from the younger man. He had escaped to his hotel room during his lunch break. Cruz thought that the time alone would help him sort himself out, but after receiving the messages from Marco he was felt even more tangled. 

“I love you,” Ted typed, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it. He knew he meant the words, too, more confidently than he had ever been. He had thought he loved Heidi. He had thought he wanted to be president. He had thought he was happy. 

Then he received a text from one of his countless campaign advisors asking where he was. They needed to prepare some more for the final debate that afternoon before the votes were going to be cast. Wearily, Cruz headed down to their conference room to work. 

“Where’s your energy?” Austen, his policy advisor, asked after Ted withered under some questions over his voting record. 

“I’m just tired,” he sighed, taking a swig from his water bottle. 

“Well, I suggest you drink some coffee or something. You have to seem passionate,” Austen said, but then his face softened. “What is it? That video getting you down? Almost no one takes it seriously.” 

Ted stiffened at the mention of the recording. He remembered, suddenly, that no one had actually ever asked him if that was him and Marco having sex on the stage. Everyone had just scoffed at the possibility. He was living a lie, and he hated it.

…  
  
“...Florida Senator Marco Rubio…”

Marco stepped out onto the debate stage, waving half-heartedly to the cheering crowd. This was it, the very last debate, scheduled for just an hour before the roll call vote to determine the party nominee. The home stretch at last. He just wanted it to be over. 

But then Rubio glanced at Ted, already standing at the podium to his left. He was wearing a suit that Rubio had never seen on him before. The younger man tried not to stare.

John Kasich joined the stage. Before Marco could properly compose himself, the first question was fired directly at him. 

“Senator Rubio, surely everyone has heard about the video that surfaced last week in which, it would seem, you and Senator Cruz were engaging in sexual intercourse. What do you make of it?”

It was a softball question, one of the first things his aides had reviewed. “My campaign denied on Twitter that I was in the video minutes after it went viral...I love Jeanette, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me...let’s talk about actual issues that affect the American people...” 

But Marco couldn’t seem to force out the words. He froze for one second, two seconds, with each moment his silence becoming more and more suspicious. 

He thought about the way Ted had comforted him when he was crying in the bar, the way the Texan held him in his arms, the way Cruz kissed him like he was the most important thing in the world. He thought about the way his heart fluttered when his lover was in the room, the way the older man responded immediately when he called, the way he listened so closely.

Rubio looked over at Ted, who turned his head just enough to look at the younger man. There was some fear in those gorgeous brown eyes, but Marco could detect just the slightest bit of hope. This was it. This was the moment when he could either completely reject the older man, or, if he had the courage…

Rubio cleared his throat, looking directly into Ted’s eyes. “Through the evening/ the mountains approach over the desert/ sails from a windless kingdom.” As he spoke, he let his words grow bolder, stronger. The terror in his gut was relaxing as he recited the poem--their poem. “Silence runs through the birds/ their shadows freeze.”

Cruz joined, softly at first but also becoming braver as he continued. Together, they said, “Where are you/ where are you where are you/ I have set sail on a fast mountain/ whose shadow is everywhere.”

The auditorium fell completely silent as the two lovers stood there, eyes locked, souls intertwined. 

“I can’t believe you memorized it,” Ted whispered, a few silent tears falling down his cheeks.

“I read it whenever I was missing you,” Marco said, smiling his embarrassed little grin as he too started to cry. 

And then they were embracing, mutually bolting together and throwing their arms around each other as if their loved one might slip away. Ted lifted the younger man a few inches from the ground, spinning him around without giving a damn that the nation was watching. Marco laughed into Cruz’s shoulder. When the Texan lowered him back down to the floor, they made no move to release the other. Their eyes met, and then they were kissing. Rubio had missed the feeling of the older man’s lips so much. He knew he was complete, once and for all; he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let Ted go again.

“Um,” was all that the moderator could manage. But the one word brought the lovers back to reality. They pulled apart, reluctantly, but still kept a good grip on the other’s hand. 

“Well, I guess that answers your question,” Marco chuckled, feeling lightheaded from the  
sudden rush of ecstasy. 

“Uh, I think we’re both suspending our presidential campaigns,” Cruz said, glancing at the younger man. His lover’s face mirrored his own--the same dumbfounded smile on blushed cheeks striped with tears of joy. 

And then Ted threw his arm over Marco’s shoulder and they walked offstage with more confidence than either had ever felt before. They nodded to the open-mouthed stage hands and headed out through the exit to the hallway. From there, they didn’t really know where they were going. They started wandering in a certain direction. It didn’t matter where they went anymore, because they were together.

“Thank you,” Cruz said. “Thank you so much, Marco.”

“My pleasure.” 

Ted leaned down to kiss the younger man again, but before their lips could touch they were interrupted by sharp cries of both of their names. Both ex-candidates jumped. They were startled by the appearance of both their wives sprinting down the hallway towards them.

Marco felt his stomach twist with guilt. How could he do this to Jeanette? He didn’t regret his decision--the feeling of Cruz’s arm around him was all he needed to confirm he was making the right choice--but he felt awful about the two marriages he just destroyed on national television. He really did love his wife, as a person and as a friend, but he could never feel the same way about her as he did about Ted. And Heidi...Marco didn’t know her well, but he was sure that she deserved better than wasting most of her adult life married to a gay man.

But Rubio noticed almost immediately that the two women didn’t seem angry, and...they were holding hands. They were holding hands. Holding hands. What the fuck?

Heidi and Jeanette exchanged glances. Heidi nodded to the other, and after some brief hesitation, Jeanette began to speak to the two men. 

“So...uh, we’re glad to hear that you guys are happy, because we’ve kinda been seeing each other.” 

Marco and Ted blinked, incredulous. “W-what?” was all that the Texan could utter, and the Floridian was speechless.

“Well, it started the night of the first debate when you guys were out late,” Heidi said, looking down at the floor. “We actually heard Ted come back into the room.”

“And into the shower?” Marco asked, starting to smile.

The women both raised an eyebrow. “How did you--” Jeanette started to ask.

“Because I was there! With Ted! That was our first time too,” Marco said, bursting into laughter midway through the sentence.

“You’re kidding me!” the Floridian’s wife said, throwing back her own head to laugh. “Oh my god!” 

The two couples talked a little more. Turned out they had usually hooked up around the same times. 

“I hope we can stay friends,” Ted said to Heidi, becoming serious. 

“You can bet on that,” she winked. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, hun.” 

“Us too,” Jeanette said to her husband.

Marco nodded. “You’ve been one of my best friends for so long, Jean. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry any other closeted lesbian.” 

“Bisexual, actually,” she corrected. “But don’t worry, I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with this fool right here.” Jeanette launched a tickle-attack on her girlfriend. After another brief goodbye, the two couples parted ways. 

Marco and Ted headed back up the older man’s hotel room. Neither had accomplished what they dreamed of when they began their presidential campaigns, but neither man could have been happier about the result. Maybe they wouldn’t be sitting in the oval office, but they would be sitting at the side of the love of their lives.


End file.
